I close my eyes. It might not be possible to die from too many orgasms, but I’m pretty sure it is possible to die from humiliation. “Please say something.”

“You need to eat.”

That surprises me enough that I lift my head to look at him. “What?”

“You passed out before we had dinner last night, and you barely had a snack for lunch. Breakfast this morning is non-negotiable.” He studies my face. “You haven’t slept much, either, since you found out what he did.”

I can feel my face heating with something like guilt. “I think I can be forgiven for having a stress response to finding out my...